Out of Thin Air
by PinStripes3030
Summary: Post GoF and Harry's back with the Drusely's. Summer before 5th year, Harry has to deal with the most unlikely of guests from Hogwarts. H/Pansy
1. Who the hell

"Well, I'll be damned. If I didn't know better, Harry Potter, you're an actual hormone driven, shag crazed teenage boy!"  
  
"I didn't mean to do that!" Harry denied. "I'm just-" He tried to reason what he did as Pansy plopped down on the seat next to him and lifted her legs, letting it rest on the wooden table. She had an infuriating smile on her face.  
  
"Lonely and pathetic? I completely agree."  
  
"A gee thanks. What a way to cheer a guy up, Pansy." He bite back sarcastically.  
  
"Glad to do it." She rested her head on his shoulder and started patting his chest. "Nothing's too much for you, Harry." She said, in her best saccharine filled voice. "You deserve it."  
  
He ran his hand through his mess of black hair, trying to calm down. He kissed her, and he didn't even know why he did. And the strangest thing was that she didn't run away from him. Now she was sitting next to him in the Drusley's living room, clinging onto his arm. How in Merlin's name did things go this far? And why, oh why did he kiss her? 


	2. You're here

*Earlier that summer*  
  
"Finally back from that rubbish school of yours? Hope you had a nice vacation, because I'm expecting to have the yard weedless, the flowers planted and a new gazebo built, by the time you leave."  
  
Harry grimaced at all the work he had to do. 4th year wasn't a picnic, and now it seemed he was doomed to work for another three months. Out of the pan, and into the fire Harry thought miserably. At least at Hogwarts, he actually enjoyed the work; he had no such compunction to his work at the Drusley's.  
  
Pulling into the driveway of number 4 privet drive, he exited the car and unloaded his trunk. While he was tugging the large wooden box across the driveway, Uncle Vernon had already given him his first task.  
  
"As soon as you lift that bloody trunk up to your room, you will immediately come back down and start weeding out the garden."  
  
Harry was cursing Uncle Vernon under his breath the whole way up the stairs. "Why doesn't Dudley weed out the garden? That fat balloon is the one that actually needs the exercise."  
  
Depositing his trunk inside his room, Harry started walking toward the garden. His mouth dropped open seeing what a state of disarray the garden was in. Knee high crab crass stretched out as far as the eye could see. Even places that were covered by slabs of cement had a thick weedy moss growing between the cracks. The section that used to be fenced off specifically for the flowers, was filled with yellow colored rye weeds.  
  
Aunt Petunia stuck her head outside the sliding screen door. "Such a shame, isn't it?" she said, obviously meaning the garden. "I've been so busy this year, I've forgotten to tend the garden."  
  
Forget my foot! Harry thought furiously They ignored the garden on purpose, just so I could do their dirty work for them.  
  
"I trust you know which ones are weeds. You do know don't you?"  
  
Harry looked around at the whole yard. "Umm, all of them?"  
  
Aunt Petunia's lips curved up into a smile. "Good, you better get cracking then, you have a lot more to do after you finish with the garden."  
  
Harry couldn't start to work; he didn't have the proper equipment. "Aunt Petunia, where are the gardening gloves? I can't start weeding without them."  
  
"Gloves?" She said, pretending for a moment that she didn't know what he was talking about. "Oh, gloves! Pish, posh, when I was little, I had to do all my chores by hand. Toughened me up quite a bit, and it wouldn't hurt if you did it to."  
  
"But, Aunt Petunia." Harry begged. "My hands are going to be all scratched and bleeding without 'em'."  
  
"Nonsense, a little blood never hurt anyone."  
  
Harry continued to beg for gloves, but Aunt Petunia kept shooting him down. "I swear, I give you a safe house to live in all these years, and you won't do a little yard work." Aunt Petunia shook her head disapprovingly. "You must take it from your mom, she was always the lazy one. always resulting to magic to do her work. No work ethic, no work ethic at all."  
  
He tuned her out and went to work. Anything was better than listening to her drone on about how evil wizards and witches were. Yard work, even work where he ended up bleeding, was preferable than to listen to Aunt Petunia talk.  
  
Two hours later, and he had barely managed to clear a square foot of the yard. At first, he was progressing rather fast, his hands still fresh and able to uproot weeds at a whim. But, over time the constant motions had damaged his skin, making it crack and bleed.  
  
He felt a wave of relief wash over him, thinking he was finished for the day when Aunt Petunia called him inside. His heart sunk when he was only granted a temporary bathroom reprieve and was ordered to work in the front yard.  
  
The front yard, although not in the best condition, was in much better condition than the back yard. Although most of the weeds came out easily enough, there was one that stubbornly wouldn't come out.  
  
Crouching on his two legs, he grabbed the stubborn weed with both hands and pulled. The weed broke free from the ground, and Harry fell backward, his glasses flying off his head in the process.  
  
Harry threw his hand's forward, blindly looking for his glasses. "Damn it!" he cursed. As sharp as he was spotting the snitch, he was blind as bat without his glasses.  
  
He was having no such luck finding his glasses, when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw a person's silhouette bending over, their out stretched hand holding an object to him.  
  
Harry reached out to what he assumed was his glasses, grabbed it and put it on. The face, a girl, in front of him came into focus.  
  
"Hello, Harry."  
  
"Pansy!" Was all Harry could say. Even though his jaw dropped, no words came out. He was speechless, to say the least.  
  
Pansy seemed to have an amused smile on her face. "You might want to close your mouth, you know. Before you drool all over the lawn."  
  
Harry mouth immediately snapped shut, finally getting over the initial shock of seeing Pansy. "Where's Malfoy?" he said suspiciously. During Harry years at Hogwarts, whenever he saw Pansy, he saw Malfoy. "What plot have you two hatched this time?"  
  
Pansy's bemused smile disappeared. "What makes you think I'm with Draco?" She said, sounding irritated at his paranoid behavior. "And why do I have to be hatching a plot?"  
  
"I don't know" Harry said shrugging his shoulder. "Why else would you be here? Other than to make my summer even worse than it already is."  
  
Pansy, choosing not to remark on how self-centered he was being: bent down and offered to help. "Do you mind?" She went over to a weed and tried to pull it out. "I was watching you for a bit, and saw you were having some trouble."  
  
"Actually," Harry went over and pulled out the weed Pansy was working on. "I'm fine, I don't need any help."  
  
She stared at him for a moment. "Fine then." She said. Pansy dusted her hands on her jeans, then stood and left, not bothering to say goodbye.  
  
As she walked away, he couldn't help but hope that she was only visiting, but at the same time he felt bad. She was being perfectly nice, maybe Pansy Parkinson deserved better than the cold shoulder he gave to her.  
  
Harry shook his head at the thought. "Nope"  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Did people dislike her that much? She wasn't mean spirited like everyone thought she was. It was just that Draco. and the rest of Slytherin house for that matter, seemed to like her more when she is making fun of Neville, or anyone else who wasn't in Slytherin. But, since they were in the muggle world, why couldn't she get along with him? They weren't Gryffindor or Slytherin here; they were just Harry and Pansy.  
  
She kicked herself for even speaking to him. She tried to test the waters to see if the 'new her' would work. It didn't. Harry didn't buy it. And if he didn't buy it, neither would any of his prejudiced friends would either. That was the end of her trial and error period. 


	3. Again?

Many cuts and bruises later, Aunt Petunia finally gave Harry his reprieve from gardening. Or at least, she told Uncle Vernon to give him his reprieve.  
  
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from the house. "Your aunt wants you to get inside and clean yourself up! It's Dinner time!"  
  
Harry happily threw the weed he was holding across the law and unto the street. Harry could've cared less if they actually fed him or not. He didn't have to spend another minute gardening, and that was good enough.  
  
He walked inside and made a beeline straight for the stairs.  
  
"I think I'll skip dinner. I'm really not that hungry." Harry said rather rapidly as he scaled the stairs. He was clear past the top step when he could hear Uncle Vernon's response.  
  
"You will not be skipping dinner!" He bellowed.  
  
The next voice was Aunt Petunia's and it sounded equally stern. "We have guests coming and it would extremely ill-mannered if you skip dinner. Quickly clean yourself up and come back down. They will be here very soon."  
  
Harry walked backward and descended down the stairwell until he was on middle step.  
  
"But, Aunt Petunia." Harry looked at his hands, the cuts and bruises still sore from the rather punishing work. "I'm tired. Can't I just skip dinner?"  
  
"No." It was Aunt Petunia's end of argument voice. If he didn't comply, there would be serious consequences. Maybe some more gardening. Harry shuddered at the thought. "Okay," Harry sighed. "I'll be ready."  
  
Harry walked up stairs and into the bathroom, his feet walking one step every second. His hands may have been damaged during the yard work, but his feet were in perfect condition. Harry was intentionally dragging his feet behind him. After all he was in no particular hurry. He may have agreed to the little dinner, but he was in no hurry to go back downstairs and join the 'family'.  
  
He ran the water over his hands. The water felt cool and soothing against his skin as it washed away the wet and dry blood marks on his hands. He picked up the bottle of antiseptic from the medicine drawer, but put it back.  
  
His sensible side told him he had to clean the cuts or else there was a chance it might get infected. However, the irrational side of him told him it would be painful and would sting horribly; making him remember the last time 'he' used the stuff.  
  
Harry scrapped his knee rather horribly when he was six. It was so long ago that he forgot the reason why, but he did remember what happened afterward. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia dragged him upstairs and, despite his screams and tears, they dunked his knee into a sink full of blue antiseptic. It was a traumatic experience to say the least.  
  
"No, no, and hell no." Harry said to himself as he put the clear blue plastic bottle down. Instead of disinfecting his wounds, he settled for bandages.  
  
He then reached for his razor, and started to shave the stubble of hair growing on his chin and upper lip. He winced in pain as he felt the razor cut him right below the chin.  
  
"Damn it!" Harry cursed to himself. He tore a piece of toilet paper, wet it, and dabbed it on the wound.  
  
He wasn't really experienced in shaving, and only started to shave right before the Yule Ball. It wasn't really to make him himself look more attractive. Shaving was for his piece of mind.  
  
If his head of hair could grow so thick and out of control, he shuddered to think would happen if he let his facial hair grow. He would probably end up the new Gryffindor mascot.  
  
"Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Lion." Harry imagined his face, a full blown out goatee, one as wild as his hair, on one of the many banners Dean drew for Gryffindor Quidditch matches. "That's another hell no." He picked up the razor and went over the few stubborn patches that remained.  
  
His hand wiped at his chin, satisfied with the job. "Smooth enough."  
  
Grabbing a towel off the rack, Harry dried his face, swiped the excess water off the sink top, put the same towel back unto the rack and walked outside the bathroom.  
  
He could hear already hear Aunt Petunia's high-pitched laughter coming from downstairs. "Arabella, its so good to see you!"  
  
The next voice was loud, but wasn't nearly as annoying. "Petunia, its great to see you to. I brought company." He assumed that was Ms. Figg.  
  
"Oh, hello dear. Oh my, she is so refined. You can just tell she was brought up right." Harry frowned. He couldn't hear the voice of the female who was now talking to Aunt Petunia.  
  
Even though he couldn't hear the third person, he could still hear Aunt Petunia's obnoxiously loud voice. "Would you like to met my son Dudley? He is a wonderful boy. I'm sure you two will get along splendidly."  
  
Next came Uncle Vernon's yell. "Boy! Are you finished yet?"  
  
Harry did not need a reminder. He hurried to his room, flipped open his trunk, and pulled the first pair of clothes he found. Normally, hasty decisions regarding clothing would often yield ugly and miss-matched colored clothes, but not this time.  
  
He had withdrawn a dark green wool sweater, and matching black dress slacks. The green sweater, although not matching his eye color, complemented them very nicely. And matching black slacks went with almost anything.  
  
Harry slipped into clothes as quickly as possible, exited the room, and started clamoring down the stairs. Halfway down, he stepped unto a splinter, making it painfully obvious he was barefoot.  
  
He hopped back up stairs, flopped unto the bed, and removed the splinter. Not quickly forgetting the sting of the splinter, he went over to the trunk and dutifully searched for a pair of socks and shoes. He found socks easily enough, but couldn't for the life of him find his shoes.  
  
Instead of spending more time looking for the proper dress shoes, he slipped on the sneakers he had used earlier. He didn't really care how unseemly he looked; his shoes would be hidden underneath the table most of night anyway.  
  
As Harry descended down the stairs, he glimpsed at the living room; it was empty. He made his way to the kitchen figuring everyone was already eating.  
  
As he pushed open the swinging the door, he found something, or rather someone unexpected.  
  
"Pansy!?"  
  
"Hello, Harry. Such a surprise to see you here." Pansy greeted. She had an infuriating smug smile on her face.  
  
"What are you-" Harry didn't have a chance to belt out the question before Uncle Vernon interrupted him.  
  
"How do you know the boy?" He was suspicious to say the least. No one knew, besides immediate family and Arabella, of Harry's existence. If the girl knew who he was then, she must be just like him. A freak.  
  
"I saw him weeding the lawn earlier. Thought he was a hired hand of sorts. I said hello, and introduced myself. Just surprised I suppose. Didn't figure the garden boy would be joining the dinner." The lie rolled off of Pansy's tongue like silk. It figured; she was in Slytherin after all.  
  
Uncle Vernon bought the excuse and smiled at her. The tiny jab she took at Harry put Pansy smack dab in Uncle Vernon's good graces. Most likely it impressed all the Drusely's to.  
  
Ms. Figg got out of her seat (she was sitting next to Pansy), and move over one spot. She patted at the now empty seat. "Sit."  
  
As Harry took a seat he fully planned to blow Pansy's identity out of the water. If he had to suffer for having magic, she should to.  
  
Before Harry could open his mouth to speak, Ms. Figg quietly whispered, "Please don't say that Pansy is a witch."  
  
Harry thought about the request for a second.  
  
Nope, Harry decided on tattling. He didn't really know Ms. Figg and he certainly didn't know or like Pansy. Why should he keep it a secret?  
  
He opened his mouth to speak, but he Ms. Figg whisper again. "Dumbledore asks that you don't."  
  
His mouth shut at the mention of Dumbledore.  
  
The rest of dinner went rather horribly afterward. Pansy was milking the situation for all it was worth. She was ridiculously flirting with Dudley, batting her eyelashes, and stroking his arm, all in an effort to try to get information out of him.  
  
It was working to.  
  
With or without the flirting, Dudley was more than willing to spread some rather embarrassing stories about Harry.  
  
Dudley was soaking up all the attention. "Did you know, Harry had always wet his bed daily until he was eight years old."  
  
Pansy was proud she was able to keep her laugh down to a snicker.  
  
"It was only a few times and I stopped when I was five!" Harry said in his defense.  
  
Dudley rolled his eyes at him. "Sure Harry, I believe you." He said sarcastically, before he started talking to Pansy again. "He said he stopped, but I don't believe him. We were ten at the time, I believe." Pansy nodded along, urging him to continue. "When mum was doing the laundry, she said she could've sworn she saw a big yellow mark on his bed sheets"  
  
Pansy struggled to hold back the peels of laughter that was threatening to escape her lips. The great Harry Potter, a bed wetter, it was too much.  
  
"It was a juice! I had spilled juice on the sheets!" Harry yelled indignantly.  
  
This time Aunt Petunia joined into the conversation. "Are you sure it was juice? I know what juice stains look like, and that was much too dark to be juice."  
  
Harry stood up from his chair. "I AM NOT A BED-" He yelled at Aunt Petunia, before Uncle Vernon stepped in.  
  
"Boy," Uncle Vernon voice came out as a low growl. "You will dare not yell at your Aunt Petunia like that if you know what is good for you!"  
  
Harry weighed his options out in his head. He got in trouble last year for injuring Aunt Marge, and he came out hedge maze alive while Cedric died. The ministry could put up with a lot, but it would be a bit much if he added exploding guardian unto the list.  
  
Harry sat down in a huff. He had obviously been delirious with pain when he had his conversation with Pansy, because there was no way that she could be nice. 'Nice Pansy, my ass.' Harry thought as he endured rest of dinner with the Drusley's. 


	4. Every where I turn

Harry had managed to avoid a conversation with Pansy for a week ever since she made a crash landing into his life. This was no small accomplishment. Ever since that fateful day and dinner, she had been visiting house number 4 almost on a daily basis. It was quite disheartening to see that the Drusely's were taking quite a liking to Pansy. This almost due to the fact she was rich and bad-mouthed Harry, which is almost always a prerequisite for any friend of the Drusely's.  
  
Also, Harry noticed, much to his chagrin, that Aunt Petunia's was making veiled attempts to push Pansy and Dudley together. romantically. Harry almost always involuntarily shuddered at the thought, the thought of those two together made him want to hex something.  
  
To make matters worse, Dudley was obviously feeding Pansy lies and often exaggerated stories about the embarrassing things Harry did as a child. He never really heard the stories being told, but their obvious pointing and laughing made it completely obvious.  
  
It was possible that Pansy was regaling Dudley of all the stupid things he did at Hogwarts, but then again, she would have to tell him she was a witch. This didn't seem to be the case, since Dudley was still treating Pansy like a human being.  
  
He was intent on avoiding her all summer, until one night, while he was laying his bed, he could hear sobs coming from outside. It was well after midnight, when Harry climbed out his window, and shimmied down using the wall-mounted trellises.  
  
He made his way toward the crouched figure sitting on the curb. Even though the person's face was buried between her knees, he could recognize the dark hair, with brown highlights.  
  
"Pansy, is that you?" he said, mildly concern, but more than anything amazed.  
  
"Oh god." She looked up at him with her mascara running down her face. "Leave me alone, Potter."  
  
He winced a little, as much as he hated to admit it, he liked being on a first name basis with her. "Wow, it is you. I guess the rumors aren't true. You are human."  
  
"Not funny." She inched herself away from Harry a little when he sat down next to her.  
  
"I'm sorry. You and I both know we are not friends, maybe even enemies to some degree, but do you need someone to talk to?" Even though she always took the chance to ridicule his friends, and any Gryffindor in sight, he could not just a leave a girl, even Pansy Parkinson, alone at night.  
  
"It's a nice thought Harry, it really is, but I'd rather not." Pansy sounded annoyed, but noticed with a start that she called him Harry instead of just Potter.  
  
"You called me Harry." He said, looking at her with a smile.  
  
She made goggle eyes at him, at then realized her mistake. "I called you hairy, as in having a lot of hair, it was an insult." She tried to cover up, but it was no use.  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess so, but truthfully, I take it as a compliment." He said.  
  
She huffed in exasperation. "Shut up. I don't want to talk to you."  
  
"You're talking to me right now."  
  
Pansy was too tired and exhausted to banter anymore with Harry. "Well then, I just won't talk."  
  
"That's fine. I'll just sit here till then, cause I am not going to leave you alone."  
  
Pansy tried to keep herself composed, but it was too hard. She hugged her legs and sobbed into her knees. She cried for five minutes, and didn't even have the energy to bat back Harry when he started to run the small of her back comfortingly.  
  
She looked up at him. "How do you do it, Harry?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"I am probably the most horrible person in the world and yet you can still care? I don't get it. What did I ever do to deserve that?" She wiped the tears from her eyes while she spoke.  
  
"Pansy, we're all human. Part of that is knowing when people need you, and when you need them. I just think you needed somebody right now. And I am not going to leave alone, sitting here in the middle of the night, bawling. Who knows might happen. We may not be friends, but I couldn't just let something bad happen to you." Unconsciously, he reached over and brushed the stray strands of he hair covering her face.  
  
She had felt electricity run through her body when his hand touched her cheek. Pansy never known anyone so considerate before, and this confused her. Her feelings were jumbled mess, she wanted to thank him, and thump him at the same time. He was getting too close.  
  
They stared at each other eyes, and Harry noted with a shock, that her eyes had quickly hardened. "I'm a grown witch, Potter and I can take care of myself. Besides you don't even have you wand with you, what would you have done? Pretend you're a dog and scare him with that shaggy mess, you call your hair?"  
  
She stood up and walked down the sidewalk toward what looked like a bus stop. "Don't follow me." She said without a looking at him.  
  
Harry sat back in shock. He thought was getting through to her, but apparently not. Her stone eyes told him everything he needed to know. She didn't like him, or wanted to be his friend. "Once a slytherin, always a slytherin." Harry muttered to himself. 


End file.
